Wicked Game
by devirnis
Summary: Sam helps Baird enjoy his day off.


**A/N:** What started out as a simple joke between friends slowly evolved into this. Don't ask.

_Mature content ho!_

For the companion piece, check out HyperSoft's fic "Breaktime"

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**Wicked Game**

If Baird could get rid of all the idiots in the world, his life would be so much simpler.

He wouldn't, for instance, have to figure out what the hell broke when some moron forgot how much space there was between the undercarriage of a Packhorse and the ground. Common sense should explain that driving over a boulder sticking out of the earth is _not good_ for vehicles.

But then again, if all the idiots were gone, he'd probably be out of a job. With the grubs and glowies dead and the local Stranded pacified, there wasn't a whole lot of damage happening to the COG's equipment on a regular basis. So at least it gave him something to do.

He was back in his mechanic clothes, stained with oil and grease, lying on his creeper underneath the Packhorse. The undercarriage was dented pretty badly, and something kept dripping on his face. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out where it was coming from. That was going to keep him up at night unless he fixed it.

Without warning, someone grabbed the top of his creeper and rolled him halfway out from under the Pack. Before he found the wherewithal to get mad over the sudden interruption, he saw who it was that had disrupted him: Sam was leaning casually against the side of the truck, arms folded across her chest.

She was wearing regular clothes, and Baird remembered with a pang that this was the first day they'd both had off in almost two weeks. It wasn't like they never saw each other on duty; Hoffman was nice enough to put them in the same four-man squad most of the time. But that was in public, with Cole constantly spewing not-so-subtle innuendos and cracking jokes.

"I figured I'd find you here," Sam said, dropping to her knees.

"Yeah, sorry. It would be today that some idiot wrecks a vehicle."

"Is it going to take long to fix?"

He shrugged. "If I could figure out _why_ the frigging thing won't steer straight… Maybe it's the—"

She cut him off. "Spare me the mechanic speak." A grin spread slowly across her face. "But that doesn't mean we can't still have some fun."

"Oh yeah?" Her tone made him both excited and nervous. "What're you—okay."

Sam slipped nimbly under the Pack. Baird liked where this was going, but he felt it was his duty to protest—just a bit.

"Not that I don't appreciate your carnal talents," he said, "but is this really the best place to do this?"

"Why not?" Sam's disembodied voice floated up from underneath the vehicle. "Come on, you haven't once fantasised about something similar to this?"

"Well, now that you mention it…" He grunted as she crawled on top of him.

Her head poked out from under the Packhorse. "Then don't gripe." With that, she disappeared again.

He was tempted to dispute that but he decided not to push his luck. His dick was getting interested in the situation and would never forgive him. The weight shifted off his chest as Sam positioned herself in-between his legs. Her hands slithered up under his shirt, tracing his abs in a way clearly designed to stroke his ego. While he enjoyed it, there was something else he would rather Sam stroke.

Pushing his shirt up, Sam brought her mouth to his skin. She left a trail of fiery kisses down his abdomen until she reached the impeding waistband of his jeans. Baird was ready to strip at lightning speed but, as if sensing his intentions, Sam moved his hands out of the way. Familiar warmth pooled in his belly.

Her fingers found their way to his belt. She began to undo it, painfully slow, pausing to place a hand over the bulge in his pants. Baird shifted his hips impatiently, which earned him a sultry chuckle. She kept going at her agonizing pace until finally—mercifully—her hand slid into his boxers. An excited smile spread across his face as Sam found her target. With her free hand, she tugged his jeans out of the way.

His heart thudded in his ears as her supple hands caressed his length. How did girls get such soft hands, anyway? _Not the time_, he mentally chided himself. She pressed her playful smirk to the tip of his cock. Her lips were already wet, tantalizing him.

"Cock tease," he muttered.

And she took him in her mouth. He sucked in a sharp breath and his hands buried themselves in Sam's hair. She hummed, sending an electric current shooting from his groin to his brain.

He was so preoccupied with the pleasure coiling in his groin that he didn't process the sound of approaching footsteps until it was too late. A bolt of adrenaline shot through him as he realized that someone had come into the garage without him noticing. There were only a few precious seconds before whoever it was would come into eyesight. His hand found Sam's head and he tried to push her off, but she swatted him away. He didn't have time to explain, though, because Marcus had come around the corner.

For a split second Baird just froze. His brain completely shut down, overwhelmed with total mortification. But then again, what exactly would Marcus see? Just the mechanic, his lower half obscured by the Packhorse. Sam would catch on quick enough and the sergeant would never be any the wiser.

"Hey, Marcus," Baird said, quite a bit louder than was necessary. He waited, but Sam didn't seem to have heard.

Marcus gave him a quizzical look at the enthusiastic greeting. "You missed the debrief."

"Did I?" Baird didn't even know there was one today. He made another attempt at shoving Sam off, but she smacked his hand away again, more forcefully this time. She'd have to be deaf not to hear them talking. "My bad."

The sergeant was close enough now that Baird had to take his hands out from under the Pack. He couldn't decide what would be more humiliating: Marcus finding out what was going on, or Marcus thinking that Baird was jerking himself off in the midst of their conversation.

"Reid called in," Marcus said. "He wants to move some civvies from Port Farrall to Azura."

"Yeah?" Baird had to make a concentrated effort to control his facial expressions; Sam was starting to get creative. In any other situation he would be in heaven but _oh god not now_. "Hoffman must be thrilled."

By this time, Marcus was standing directly beside him. He stared down at Baird, clearly waiting for him to come out from underneath the vehicle so they could have a face-to-face conversation.

Baird coughed awkwardly. "I'll… stay like this. I've got a… crick… in my back."

Marcus gave him a long blink; Baird could practically hear the gears in his head turning. But the sergeant let it drop. "Hoffman's pissed. First, Reid wants all Parry's people so Port Farrall can support the population. But now he wants to send half of the civvies to Azura and still keep the sappers for as long as he can."

Just as Baird opened his mouth to contribute something intelligent to the conversation, Sam switched tactics. Suddenly her hand grasped him, pumping up and down the shaft while her soft tongue worked the head. Instead of expressing assenting sentiment, Baird's words became a garbled, high-pitched noise at the back of his throat.

Marcus cocked an eyebrow. Baird smiled nervously and feigned clearing his throat. "Must be something going around."

Sam's lips tightened around him; he could feel her smirk.

"Anyway, I thought everyone pretty much already knew that Reid was a walking rectum," Baird said, fighting for nonchalance.

"In the field, yeah," Marcus agreed. "Can't motivate his soldiers for shit. I'm surprised Sam stayed in his EOD unit for so long." Baird shifted uncomfortably, but the sergeant didn't notice. "No one expected him to be this _petty_ when it came to shared resources."

Suddenly Sam pulled away, and for one brief moment Baird felt relieved. But before he could enjoy the freedom from fear of discovery, she dove back down and swallowed his whole length. Her wicked tongue swirled firmly around him and it took all of Baird's willpower to hold back the needy groan that threatened to give it all away.

Marcus was still babbling on about Reid, but Baird couldn't focus on any of the words. Panic mingled with pleasure in his gut as he realized he wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer. And he really, _really_ didn't want to climax while staring Marcus in the face.

"While this has been enlightening," Baird said through gritted teeth, "I _really_ need to finish up here. Can we do this later?"

The sergeant looked mildly annoyed that Baird was essentially telling him to fuck off. But Marcus also appeared to know _something_ was going on; he seemed to have decided that he didn't really want to know.

"After dinner tonight, then," Marcus said gruffly.

It took an eternity for the sergeant to leave the garage. Baird's hands balled into fists. The burning in his lower stomach was overwhelming. _Just a few more seconds_. The last thing he wanted was for Marcus to come rushing back if he heard a scream.

Only when Baird heard the door close did he finally allow himself to let go. He came with a stifled shout, the world flaring white-hot and silent. His hips instinctively rolled forward and he lost himself in the motion, only vaguely aware of whatever Sam was doing to draw his gratification out. Finally he collapsed back down with a loud sigh.

"Holy fucking shit," he breathed, giddy with relief and euphoria. Who knew neurohormones and endorphins could pack such a punch?

Sam's hands and mouth slid away and she crawled back on top of him. She looked far too pleased with herself, considering the trauma she'd just put him through. He glared at her and she mischievously licked her lips. Not the reaction he had been hoping for. She planted a quick kiss on his lips and rolled off of him.

"What the hell was that?" he asked as she lied down beside him.

"Fun," she answered innocently, an impish grin on her face. He couldn't decide if he wanted to kiss her or kill her. "What, didn't you enjoy it?"

He rolled his eyes. "Shockingly, attempting to have a conversation with Marcus Fenix while my girlfriend gives me head isn't exactly my idea of fun. Is there any particular reason you decided not to stop when he walked in?"

Sam didn't respond, but her smile widened. Baird narrowed his eyes; he began to suspect foul play. "You didn't… you didn't know he was coming, did you?"

"I might have been present at the debriefing and I might have overheard Hoffman tell Marcus to bring you up to speed."

He really could have killed her. "You bitch."

She just snorted. "Come on, it wasn't _that_ bad. I just thought I'd try something a little more exciting."

"Oh, _exciting_? Words come to mind, but 'exciting' sure as hell isn't one of them."

"If you think that's bad, you should hear what Anya did to Marcus. He was on the radio with Hoffman and—"

"_No_." Baird squeezed his eyes shut, as if that could somehow ward off the mental images that were threatening to invade his brain. "No, no, no. I do _not_ want to hear about Marcus and Anya's sex l—" _Hang on a second_. "Wait. How do _you_ know what they've done?"

Sam looked at him like he was a prize idiot. "Anya and I are friends. One key element of friendship is communication."

His stomach dropped. "Do you talk about… us?"

It was Sam's turn to roll her eyes. "Obviously."

"Oh _god._" He flushed as he began imagining all the conversations the women could possibly have had. Words like _length_ and _girth_ floated around in his mind; he could practically hear them giggling. Was it possible to die of embarrassment?

Sam scoffed. "Don't act so horrified. Like you and Cole never swap stories?"

"Yeah, but…" He struggled for words. In the end, all he could come up with was, "That's different."

For whatever reason, Sam didn't snicker at his pathetic answer. Maybe she figured he'd been humiliated enough for one day. She rolled over onto her side, still with the stupid, smug smile, and reached out to touch his face. After a few comforting strokes she went to pull away, but Baird caught her wrist.

"Yes?" she asked coyly.

"If this is your demented way of hinting that you want a threesome with Marcus—"

Her laughter cut him off. "Don't worry. I've got kinks, but that _definitely_ isn't one of them."

That caught his attention. "Oh really? And what exactly are these kinks?"

She smirked knowingly and shuffled closer. Pressing her swollen lips to his, she whispered against his mouth, "You'll just have to wait and see."


End file.
